Ready for the next stage

In a couple of weeks my youngest child starts nursery. This looming change hasn’t been bothering me much up until now. He’s more than ready for it and massively excited about being able to head off to school just like his big brother.

With this move into the next stage of his life, it also brings change for me too. I’ve been a stay-at-home mum for over two years and although I do love to complain about how much my kids wind me up I’m genuinely going to be a bit lost when he goes. Of course this completely kills all excuses not to be finishing the second book or working on my Masters, but I’m sure I will be able to think up other pitiful reasons to avoid my office – I am, after all, an expert procrastinator.

Ozzy gets a bit of a bad reputation on the blog, mostly because he’s just not as sensitive as Oliver was at his age, but this doesn’t make him the ‘bad’ one. He’s his own person.

He’s a mirror image of my husband (which can be irritating, especially when he and I are fighting) and although he’s not as gentle as Oliver, he’s much more affectionate. He’s got a laugh that resonates from a place of pure mischief, he’s strong-willed, he’s energetic, he’s chaos personified and he’s the reason I laugh throughout the day. He gets away with so much more than Oliver ever did because he’s the baby and because of his countless admissions to hospital due to f**king croup, every winter.

Within minutes of meeting him, his teacher – who taught Oliver before him – remarked: “Well, we’re dealing with a whole different character.” A summary I couldn’t have put better myself.

I love that they’re so different from each other; it’s what keeps things interesting around here.

There’s something else about Oscar that always makes him a little bit special to me. He has a sense of when I may be in need of a hug or just for someone to sit beside, something that no one else in the house picks up on (even my stalker dog). When he does find me I’m usually in the hallway, perched on the second last step of my stairs.

This is my spot.

It’s where I take a breather from the house and from life. I make telephone calls here, I have arguments here, I’ve cried here, laughed here and had kisses that make the world melt away. I’ve had the worst news of my life here and the best. I’ve fallen apart and put myself back together all whilst sitting on this step so it’s not hard to find me when I’ve slipped away from the chaos of playtime.

Ozzy, without fail, will simply sit beside me on this spot and give me a hug. But there’s sometimes, when he thinks I might need it, he’ll give my arm an extra squeeze and say: “There, that will fix your heart.” And then he runs off back to being a destructive three-year-old. For those few seconds he can read me better than someone ten times his age and I love him for it.

Now, if that’s not a pretty special kid then I don’t know what is.

He’s going to be fine and I’m going to be fine but I will miss this chapter of my life. Those few hours when it was just the two of us drove me crazy at times but I wouldn’t have missed them for the world.